


And John will cry buckets and buckets

by Iwanttobejustme



Series: Please, remember to breathe [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Romance, Canon Divergence - His Last Vow, Canon Divergence - The Reichenbach Fall, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Roller Coaster, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Male Slash, Mind Palace, POV Sherlock Holmes, Panic Attacks, Romance, Sherlock Feels, Sherlock's Mind, Sherlock's Past, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2019-04-05 02:38:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14034333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iwanttobejustme/pseuds/Iwanttobejustme
Summary: "I’m on the rooftop, balancing on the edge, looking down the four story building. St. Bart’s? I’m always there, restraining myself from taking a fall, but always so appealing."My take on what was going on Sherlock's mind when Mycroft told him the surprising news.Sherlock POV





	And John will cry buckets and buckets

**Author's Note:**

> I’ll leave you this little piece I wrote: it’s about what was going on in Sherlock’s mind when Mycroft told him the news (you have to have read “Please, remember to breathe” for this to make any sense). I know, it’s confusing…I just thought that with the shock he wouldn’t have really coherent thoughts. 
> 
> As always, English is not my first language and this is not betaed: every mistake is my own and every correction is well accepted (so, please, let me know if there are some mistakes and I'll correct them!).
> 
> I don't own Sherlock (BBC, ACD or else).
> 
> Read more at the end!

_Sherlock POV_

 

 

“John is alive.”

 

  

 

_John is alive…_

I’ve been shot. Possibly in my brain, because I cannot think properly.

 

_John is alive…_

 

“Say that again.”

 

“John is alive.”

 

 

 

 

This sentence again.

 

_John is alive…_

 

 _John._ A name. A person. Yes, my John.

 

 _Is._ Verb to be, third person, present tense. Wrong!

 

 _Alive._ Adj. Living. Existing. Not dead or lifeless. Wrong! Wrong! Or maybe…

 

Why these words don’t make any sense?

 

‘Because John is dead, Sherlock. It’s been dead for quite some time, now.’

 

Shut up! Just, shut up.

 

 

 

“This is not funny, Mycroft.” My voice cracks.

“No, it is not. And I assure you that it is the truth. I checked myself.”

Don’t do this to me, Myc. Please, not again…

“It’s not possible.”

But I sense it. It’s here. Hope is strong, it never died. I just buried it deep down in some part of my mind palace.

“It is.”

And now I really feel like I’ve been shot, this time in my chest. I cannot breathe. I cannot move. I’m paralyzed.  I have to find some place to hide.

I have to hide from this pain, so I run and run…and run. Mind palace. I’m on the rooftop, balancing on the edge, looking down the four story building. St. Bart’s? I’m always there, restraining myself from taking a fall, but always so appealing. So many times I…

I have to step down, there is no time for this now. I take the stairs, looking for something that could calm me down.

A long corridor full of doors. Yes, one of these will do. I’ll check them all if I have to.

Redbeard! My dog, what a good boy. But no, it’s not enough. My parents had to put him down. Another loss.

I have to keep running. I still feel pain, I have to hide. Deeper into this place. Faster!

But I’m tired, I can’t go any further…a door! Yes, that door. A cell. White walls. Dirt. Rattling chains. That man. Eyes full of hate. Left here to rot.

A statement, in the form of a question comes spontaneously to my mouth.

_“You…you never felt pain, did you? Why did you never feel pain?”_

It’s unbearable. My lungs hurt, my heart is beating too fast, it’s like my chest is bursting from the inside.

 

_“You always feel it, Sherlock. But you don’t have to fear it._

_Pain._

_Heartbreak._

_Loss._

_Death._

_It’s all good…. It’s all good.”_

I really used to think that in the past. After John’s death, this was me.

 

I cannot stand up anymore. The floor is soft. The pain is the same.

 

I just want to let go, for this pain to stop. Oh, please, stop. Stop!

 

Needles, drugs, oblivion. The result of my decisions right in front of me. My own eyes where staring at me from my own face covered in dirt, taunting, as I lay down on the floor. The Sherlock without a purpose. The Sherlock who had given up. The Sherlock who wanted to end everything.

 

_“Come on, Sherlock. Just die, why can’t you? One little push, off you pop._

_You’re gonna love being dead, Sherlock. No one ever bothers you.”_

I’ve put that Sherlock in a white straightjacket, the chains preventing him to leave this place, to come near me ever again because I cannot afford to be him anymore. The one that almost forced me off the rooftop, imaginary or not.

_“Mrs. Hudson will cry._

_And Mummy and Daddy will cry…_

_And John will cry buckets and buckets.”_

* * *

 

 

“Sherlock, I love you.”

A faint memory overcame the pain and the taunts. A familiar scent. Long dreamed blue eyes, sometimes grey, with gold and brown speckles were staring right into mine.

 

* * *

 

 

“I’ll do whatever it takes to come back to you, I promise.”

The feeling of sheets around me. The heat of a naked body pressed against my spine. Strong arms hugging me from behind.

 

* * *

 

 

“Remember, Sherlock. You promised me. Whatever happens, a life is always worth living.”

A duffel bag, a waving hand. A last kiss. And the taste of tears that never really stopped.

 

* * *

 

_“You’re letting him down, Sherlock.”_

 

NO!

John! My John. Yes, a promise. That’s why I buried this Sherlock here, in this place that seemed the cell of a madhouse. Because I couldn’t let him go out ever again. Because of him I almost betrayed my promise to John.

 

I have to get up, exit this place. Climb back up the stairs, one step after another, aiming to the top. The banister the only thing keeping me upright, preventing me to fall back down. I’m almost there.

 

John is alive!

 

I’m on the top but the air is not enough. Panic. I still cannot breathe. I cannot breathe. I cannot…

 

 

 

“Little brother,  _breathe_.”

 

 

And I did.

**Author's Note:**

> First things first, I really wanted to thank you all for your comments and your kudos! It's very surprising for me because, you know, I don’t usually write anything, ever. For no one. I’m not a writer, I just write down some thoughts to free my mind… I don’t know if this make sense!  
> So, to answer your questions, yes, I wrote more of this, but not in any particular order. Just what came to my mind at the time. 
> 
> Enjoy!


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